


Charms And Tidings

by duh_i_read (duh_i_write)



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Canon, Fake 5 Things Fic, Magpies, Multi, Nursery Rhymes, Season/Series 04, Things That Could Have Happend in Season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-09
Updated: 2010-02-09
Packaged: 2017-10-07 03:39:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duh_i_write/pseuds/duh_i_read
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Strange luck comes from the counting of crows. Three things that didn't happen at Giles apartment, and one that did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Eight: A Murder

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2009 round of Summer of Giles.

“Don’t feed them, Xander, they’ll only come back and make a nuisance of themselves.”

“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you? Only, you know, a lot less proper sounding.” Xander tore another piece of yesterday’s donut at the flock of crows in Giles’ courtyard.

“Sitting right here,” Spike called out from the shadow of the building. Xander threw a piece of donut at Spike, who snarled in response.

“Can’t wait for the day when I can eat you good an’ proper, Harris.” Partly draped in his ratty blanket, sipping from the yellow ‘kiss the librarian’ mug, Spike resembled an invalid out for air. The chain that led from his shackles to the railing of the stairs added a Hellmouthy touch to the whole scene.

“Keep wishing, Evil Dead.” Xander crumbed the donut in his palm before throwing wide on the cement.

“Maybe I will. Seems like the murder’s on my side.” Spike ran his tongue along the side of the mug to catch the drop that slid down between the ‘I’ and the ‘B’.

“The murder? You’ll be waiting a long time for any murder, buddy.” His lips curled at Spike in a sneer.

Spike sneered back. “No you pillock, the murder.”

He jabbed his mug towards the birds. “That’s what a flock of crows is called.”

“ There are eight,” Giles said, slipping his glasses on. “ I though eight was for hell,”

“No, eight’s for a wish.” Spike scratched his head. “Or maybe death. Dru would’ve known.”

Xander turned to look at Giles, his mouth slanted tight in thought. Past Giles shoulder, Spike peered down into his mug, swirling it around slowly as if he could divine answers from it like Willow had tried once last year.

Giles removed his glasses, rapping them against the table in a slow rhythm. “Ahh, yes.” Giles ticked off the numbers on his fingers. “One for sorrow—two for joy—three for girl—four for a boy—five for silver—six for gold—seven for a secret never to be told—eight for a kiss—nine for a wish and ten for a time of joyous bliss.” Puzzle solved, he smiled at Xander.

“A kiss, huh? You offering, Watcher?”

“If it’s a kiss of wood into the cavity of your heart, then yes.”

“Oooh! Talk dirty to me, Rupert.” Spike batted his eyelashes and mimed kisses at Giles.

”What's a group of vampires called?” The crows had flown away while Giles was counting, which had got Xander to thinking about all kinds of odd names of animal groups. Well, perhaps only gaggle of geese, his favorite since second grade, and a parliament of rooks, which he wouldn’t even know if it weren’t for that one story in _Sandman._

“A vulgarity."

“Really? A vulgarity of vampires? Who came up with that?”

“No vamp, for sure,” Spike offered. “That sounds like a Council of Wankers term if I ever heard one.”

“It was coined by my great-great-grandfather. He specialized in nesting vampires. His writings referred to more then four vampires as a ‘vulgarity’,” Giles said.

"That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. At least a ‘murder’ has dignity. Hell, a ‘tiding’ is better ‘un that.”

" I don’t think anyone would mistake multiple vampires as a tiding." Giles took off his glasses to polish them. “What would you use instead of vulgarity?”

  
“Never had to before. Vamps’ll nest up nice an' cozy with minions an' fledges, but that’s all temporary. Don’t need to call that anything. Now, what I had with Dru ‘an Angelus ‘an Darla, that’s less common. That would call for a special name, an' we had a few.’

“The Whirlwind,” Giles said.

“Darla’s idea. Angelus liked The Scourge better. A Scourge of vampires. That sounds better.” Spike nodded to himself, “Something to strike fear in beating hearts.”

“Not liking sound of scourges or vulgarities of any kind. I’m a one vamp guy.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Harris."

“Hey! You keep your mind and everything else away from me!”

“Spike, do shut up.” Giles stood, gathering his teacup to take inside.

“Watcher, you’re not leaving me out here,” Spike howled. “It’s almost noon!”

”As much as I would love to, I am not. Xander, can you assist me with tying Spike up?”

“Sure thing, Big G.” Xander popped the last bit of stale donut in his mouth.

  
Giles glared at Xander, saying nothing as he unlocked the chains on the banister and looped them around his forearm. He tugged the chain, and Spike flipped him off before shuffling up the stairs. Giles followed behind, and Xander grabbed the now empty pink paper box. Across the street, eight crows perched on the telephone wire, shuffling and cawing.

“Eight for…” he murmured to himself as he left the courtyard    

 

 


	2. Eight: A Wish

Spike came to with the gentlest pressure on the back of his neck. The scent of rosewater and clove tickled his nose, too real for his mind to conjure up.

 “Dru?”

“Yes, my dove.” His centennial love, dressed in black and red, knelt next to the bathtub.

“You came back?”

“Leave my dear Spike to the carrion eaters? Never.”

“But in Brazil…”

“Punishment.” Her hand moved over his brow where his true face lay poised beneath the skin. He shivered. “But Mummy is here to make it all better.”

She brushed her lips over his, her mouth warm and sweet and tart.

Slayer’s blood.

“Dru?”

“The tiding. Always count the tiding—they never lie. No magpies, but crows of starlight black.”

“Dru, where is the Slayer?”  He turned, as much as the chains would allow facing her head on.

“A tiding of eight with your wishes caught around their toes like bits of wire. Stuck them in my tongue in order to hear.” She wiped a comma of blood from her temple and licked it off. Ever the fastidious eater.

“What did you do?”

She pulled the key from behind his ear like a sleight of hand trick and undid his chains. Taking his hand, she walked to the living room. Tied to the chair he himself had occupied not long ago was the Watcher. Head slumped down, Oxford shirt torn and edged in blood. His heart had the rhythm of the unconscious; slow.

The only one in the room.

One slender arm was thrown over the couch; sun kissed peach and deadly fingers limp. Laid out, she looked merely tired, conked out for a nap. Only the dark stripe like a thumb swipe on the collar of her shirt gave it away, the last of her lifeblood.

“Guess we’re two for two huh, luv.” he said, a little sad he hadn’t had chance to off the girl himself. Especially after Red's sodding spell.

“Couldn’t stand you being covered in her. I’ve stolen her spark and it makes my tummy purr.”

The moan turned Spike’s attention to the bound man in the corner.  The Watcher was gonna flip when he woke.

“What should we do with him?”

“Daddy would leave him to find his broken chickadee laid out just for him. But I like the way he tastes like dark syrup and bourbon.” She traces her finger down the line of his face.

“Can we keep him?”

It was on the tip of his tongue to say _anything for you, ducks_, but what would a turned Watcher do? Especially one whose sire had killed his Slayer?  Would do no good if he rose and staked the both of them.

“The crows promised. Mummy and daddy and baby make three.”

“Did the crows say anything about him staking us in our sleep?” he asked, as Dru tipped the Watcher’s head to the side. The look she gave him over her shoulder said _no_. This didn’t feel right to him. Not counting the bits with chains, the Watcher had been right decent to him.

“Best just to drain him down now, Dru. I want to put as much distance between us and Sunnydale as possible.”

“But Spike...”

“No lip. I’ll find you a little pet once we leave this bloody town.”

“The crows said! I shan’t disappoint them!” She pouted, eyes wide and lip out. He couldn’t say no to that lip.

“Well, wouldn’t be the first time he woke up a demon,” he said.  “But he won’t want to play like this, Ducks. We have to soften him up a bit first. Can turn him once we leave the country. This place is no good for our plans."

“I’ll sing him a lullaby and he’ll be soft and sleepy.” She slid into the Watcher’s lap, pressing kisses over his brused face.

Spike turned, grabbing his coat and the cash from the Watcher’s wallet as Dru chirped endearments to her newest little one, stroking the sweat damp hair from his brow.

“My sweet boy’s cross now, but he’ll be ever so glad to have you, Ripper. He’s always wanted a brother.”


	3. Eight: Hell

"Are you certain?" Giles asked, before he realized the inanity of the question.

"Yes. Unless I mysteriously caught some demon parasite," Olivia said, "Perhaps I should schedule a exorcist."

"No need to be sarcastic."

"No need to be stupid."

"Besides, demonic parasites are extracted, not exercised."

"Rupert—"

"Right, I'm sorry. I'm just a little stunned, I mean, you were only here for a few days." And that nightmare with the Gentlemen had cut into a significant part of their time together.

"I think it was that night we drank bourbon and watched those crows bother the neighbors' cat," she sighed, and he could hear the ghosts of their carefree laughter drifting from courtyard. "I called to tell you I intend on keeping this child, but I don't expect any noble actions on your part."

"Olivia…"

"Before you say it, I am not coming back to Sunnydale. No matter how much fun we have together, because that whole incident with the Gentlemen was just the surface. You face weirder shit than that on a weekly basis."

"It's not always as unusual as you've seen: sometimes it's only vampires."

"Only vampires? Like the one who spilled blood and bourbon on the rug? Rupert, no matter how fond of you I am, I don't want to risk myself or this child."

"Then why tell me at?" He traced the rim of his glass with his pinky before drinking the last little bit.

Her laugh trickled down his spine, "Oh Rupert. I could never be that callous to a friend. I'm telling you because, in the event you decide to leave that backwater town and return home, I'd be willing to resume our relationship."

"I don't think what we have is conducive to raising a child."

"It could be."

"Do you want it to be?"

"Only if you do. I know you're a good man, and I know you would marry me because you think it's the right thing to do, but it's not what you want. You know where to find me if you ever decide otherwise."

"Olivia..."

"Goodbye Rupert." A pause, an exhale of breath and the silence. Fingers limp, the phone fell with a clatter on the desk.

For a second, he saw it: red eye to London—coach, on the ground by 10 am London time, call his parents (how excited his father would be), find a jeweler—that little shop Ethan loved, get a ring, catch a cab to the British Museum—it'll be lunch—find her, propose.

 

And.

Then: get married and live in a little flat with an overweight tabby and a little Giles toddling around on little legs while Mummy and Daddy cataloged dusty artifacts. Send little Giles to Oxford then watcher training, forth generation lost in the family business.

Leaving the daughter of his heart in Sunnydale, city poised and itching to pounce. Or worse, snapped up by those men in black and stuck in a jar, wriggling on a pin like some rare butterfly.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, the movement pushing his glasses up. Next to the empty glass, the book of fairy tales and fables lay open to a drawing of magpies in a tree. Four. Six. Nine. Eight. Birth. Death. Demons. Hell.

Choices. Choices.


	4. A Murder, A Kiss

Spike sneered back, “No you pillock, the murder.” He waved his mug at the crows,

“That’s what a flock of ‘em are called.”

“And there are eight,” Giles said, slipping his glasses on, “ I thought eight was for hell,”

“No, eight’s for a wish.” Spike scratched his head, “Or maybe death. Dru used to chant it different each time.”

Xander turned to look at Giles, his mouth slanted tight in thought. Past Giles’ shoulder, Spike peered down into his mug, swirling it around slowly as if he could divine answers from it like Willow had tried to do once last year.

“Right, of course,” Giles said. “One for sorrow—two for joy—three for girl—four for a boy—five for silver—six for gold—seven for a secret never to be told—eight for a kiss—nine for a wish and ten for a time of joyous bliss.” Puzzle solved, he smiled at Xander.

“A kiss, huh? You offering, Watcher?”

“If it’s a kiss of wood into the cavity of your heart, then yes.”

“Oooh! Talk dirty to me, Rupert,” Spike batted his eyelashes and mimed kisses at Giles.

Giles arched one eyebrow. “If it’s pain you want, I can accommodate. There would be no safe word for you.”

“Not like vamps know the meaning of the word. That would explain why you had the chains at the ready.” Spike voice lowered to a growl. “I can take anything you can dish out, Watcher.”

The stared each other down for a moment, and Xander wondered why the vamp would want Giles to hurt him.  Spike tilted his head and licked his upper lip.

Giles turned away first. “Xander, can you assist me in chaining up Spike in the bathroom?”

“Sure thing, Big G.”

“Xander for the umpteenth time—”

“Dunno Watcher, from what I’ve seen, name seems fitting. Am I not the only one you’ve chained to the tub? ” Spike asked. Xander grinned when Giles backhanded the vampire.

“Hey now, watch the mouth. I gotta look pretty for my kiss later.” A thin line of blood appeared at the corner of Spike’s mouth.

“That I doubt very much,” Giles said. “Especially since I intend to keep you gagged as much as possible.”

“Not my kink, Watcher.” Spike tongued the cut. “Maybe that bird that left the sexy message last night is into it, though she sounds like she would make the prettiest little sounds when—“

Giles backhand Spike again. “Believe me, no one in their right mind would go anywhere near your mouth.”

“You haven’t seen what my mouth can do,” Spike said. Giles looped the chain around his forearm and tugged hard. Spike jerked forward, catching himself before he fell. With a growl, he shuffled up the stairs, Giles following behind, and Xander grabbed the now empty pink paper box. Behind him, the murder flew off until they were a smudge of dark against the morning sky.

 


End file.
